


Chase Away the Nightmares

by IcyPanther



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Concussions, Garrison trio, Gen, Hurt Pidge | Katie Holt, Hurt/Comfort, Pidge | Katie Holt Whump, Protective Hunk (Voltron), Protective Lance (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:21:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23687596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcyPanther/pseuds/IcyPanther
Summary: Pidge is hurt. She’s hurtbad. And yet there’s nothing much Lance and Hunk can do. They’re stranded in the middle of a warzone on a hostile planet and help isn’t coming for a long while. No matter what though they will protect Pidge. They’ll keep her from further harm; from the aliens, from injury and even from her own nightmares as her head wound blurs reality and fiction. And maybe, hopefully, soon the nightmare will be over for them all.
Relationships: Garrison Trio - Relationship, Hunk & Lance (Voltron), Hunk & Pidge | Katie Holt, Lance & Pidge | Katie Holt
Comments: 63
Kudos: 207
Collections: Satisfying Pidge





	Chase Away the Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> **Timeline notes:** Later season four or early season five  
>  **Warning notes:** None

“Hunk,” Lance gasped, stumbling through what had twenty minutes ago been an immaculate flower garden but was now trampled and littered with debris and… and an arm.

Lance tried not to look as he stepped over it, tried not to think about the alien who it might have once belonged to and what had happened to them.

He had to find his friends.

“Pidge,” he called out, peering through the heavy cloud from the canon fire and churned up earth. 

“ _—ance, do you—can—-”_

“Hunk! Hunk, can you hear me?” Lance paused, crouching next to a tipped over lawn chair even though it would offer no protection whatsoever from the warring aliens weapons should they attack. But they seemed to be going after each other over the three Paladins sent to broker a treaty with them to join the Coalition. 

Apparently their civil war with one another was of greater issue than the expansion and takeover of the Galra Empire and he, Hunk and Pidge had gotten caught up right in the middle of it.

It would have been really, really nice to know about that little hiccup before they’d been dropped off by Coran and essentially stranded on a now hostile planet with no way off until the castle came back tomorrow morning. 

And what the alien race lacked in size, barely four feet tall, they made up for in firepower as their missiles were the entire reason they had been considered to join the Coalition as an ally.

Missiles that were now being launched all over from both sides with no consideration for their own and exploding against the ground, several fires already started where they’d struck garden plants and trees.

And Lance couldn’t find his team.

Hunk had been by the signing table when the treaty had gone from what looked like a civil disagreement to open war, but hearing him on the comms had calmed Lance somewhat.

He didn’t know where Pidge was.

She had been examining some of the missile blueprints at one point but when the fighting had started Lance had lost sight of her as he’d waded into the delegates floor to try and calm them down.

That had not gone well.

The bloody scratch across his cheek, which could have easily been through his head, attested to that. He’d pulled his helmet on a second later as the firefight broke out and now here they were, twenty minutes later and the garden a warzone and bodies in pieces every which way and fire and destruction and _death_ and he _could not find his team._

“Pidge,” he pleaded. “Hunk. Someone, please, copy.”

Only static crackled in his ear.

And then the sharp whistling of canon fire that was much, much closer than any had been to him.

Lance saw the missile a second later, a bright green streak piercing through the smoky sky.

He also saw Pidge.

She was about twenty yards away, her helmet gone and face streaked with dirt, and…

And right in the path of where the projectile was about to impact.

They were apparently targeting the Paladins now.

“Pidge!” his voice cracked with raw fear. “Watch out!” 

She turned her head in his direction, relief clear at spotting him, alerted to the shout but not the words and facing the wrong direction to see the attack.

The missile struck with a concussive _boom._

The impact sent Lance to his knees as the ground lurched below him and rocks pelted against his armor, but he didn’t care, he didn’t care at all, as he had eyes only for Pidge.

Pidge who had been but feet away from the blast.

And he could do _nothing_ as she was sent flying, her scream louder than any cannon fire.

She hit the ground and bounced once.

Twice.

On the third time her scream cut off with a horrifying silence. 

She smashed into one of the decorative hedges, chunks missing from its top and smoldering slightly.

She didn’t move.

She didn’t get up.

Another bright green streak soared through the air.

Lance’s pulse thundered in his ears.

“Pidge!” Lance scrambled forward, nearly tripping as the earth below him shook with more explosions, projectiles whistling through the air and more cries of pain and fear following. 

Lance ignored them.

All that mattered was Pidge.

“Pidge!” he screamed her name again, raw and desperate and oh _Dios_ oh _Dios_ oh _Dios por favor,_ please let her be all right.

Please let her be alive.

He stumbled sideways as another explosive impacted near him, his white armor a beacon even in the cloudy air.

_Dios._

_Dios_ they were going to _die._

“Pidge!” her name was a prayer, a plea, on his lips as he regained his balance and closed the distance to her. 

Please.

_Dios, por favor._

Let her be okay.

She had to be okay.

He skidded to a stop next to her, churning up broken rocks and loose soil, hands hovering but not touching as he gazed at her.

He’d always known Pidge was tiny. 

But she had never looked _small._

Not like this. 

Her eyes were closed, head tilted back and exposing her small, vulnerable throat. Her body was splayed out, her limbs lifeless.

She looked like a broken doll with blood painted on for blush.

Was she…?

“Pidge?” Lance whispered, stretching out a shaking hand to her cheek. “P-Pidge?”

A whistling shriek sounded and he threw his shield up on one arm and hunched over her, elbows slamming into the ground on either side of her.

She didn’t even react as debris pelted the shield and struck her exposed legs. Lance grit his teeth as a larger chunk smashed into his back, unprotected as he shielded Pidge, but it wasn’t bad, he didn’t think.

Not like Pidge.

“Hunk,” he choked into the comms. “Hunk, _hermano, por favor.”_

Please answer.

Please be okay.

He couldn’t…

Not Hunk too.

“Pidge,” he whispered again. “Pidge, please. W-wake up.”

Her head turned ever so and her brow scrunched up, pain lining her features.

Lance had never been so glad to see it.

She was alive.

“ _Gracias a Dios,”_ he murmured.

This still wasn’t over.

Lance looked down at Pidge, who had fallen still again but he could see her breaths fluttering her hair and despite the firefight still waging around them he felt something unclench in his chest at that.

She was alive.

Se was going to be okay.

He would make sure of it.

He needed to get her out of here but he knew it was dangerous to move someone who could have spinal injuries and given the way she had hit the ground, especially with no helmet, it was a terrifyingly valid concern. 

He also didn’t have much choice. They couldn’t stay here.

“— _ance, Pidge, can—-me? I’m by—-eeline.”_

The burst of static and Hunk’s voice both made Lance nearly jump in surprise and wilt in relief.

“Hunk! Hunk! I’m with Pidge. She’s hurt. I…” he swallowed and looked again at Pidge’s still pained face, her eyes starting to flicker beneath her lids. “I need help. We’re, we’re by the front garden. Please, can you hear this? Hunk?”

“ _Lance, I— you. I’m —ing, hold—”_

The response was still full of static and the crackle of more gunfire but it was getting clearer.

Hunk was closing in.

“We’re by a hedge, a big blue one that sort of looks like a pine tree and it’s on fire at the top,” Lance babbled, looking around for more identifiers. “Maybe, maybe thirty feet north of where the main dais was? I think? It’s really dusty and—”

He cut off as the familiar screaming of an incoming missile shattered the air.

He threw himself completely over Pidge that time, his chestplate thunking against hers and he curled his arms over her head, shielding both of their faces.

There was no shower of rocks that time but Lance did hear something else.

Footsteps.

And not heavy enough to be Hunk.

Lance jerked his head up and ocean eyes locked on the alien standing a few feet away.

And he was pointing a blaster right at them and Lance knew, even with their armor and a shield, that a hit from that gun at that range would not be so easily pushed aside.

And this alien…

There was murder in his eyes.

Pidge stirred with a soft groan beneath him and Lance could feel the alien’s bright green gaze shift down towards her.

The gun followed.

“Your fault,” came the quiet hiss. “All of this is your fault.”

Pidge shifted, her head brushing against Lance’s hands on either side of her. Lance couldn’t look down though, not even as he heard a mumbled, confused, “Lance?” because the gun was _right there_ and if he didn’t figure a way out of this,then…

Then…

The gun clicked, loaded.

“Look,” Lance blurted out, not sure what he needed to say, what this alien wanted to hear, but he had to do _something_ and he didn’t dare move because then Pidge would be fully exposed and he would never, ever, leave her to save himself. “I’m, I’m sorry that this happened.” His throat bobbed. He was so sorry.

He’d never wanted this. 

But it wasn’t Voltron’s fault. This fight had been brewing and the Coalition alliance had been the catalyst.

It wasn’t the cause.

“Your fault,” the alien repeated and there was something else in his eyes past the anger.

Grief.

Lance’s heart lurched.

Pidge shifted again, another soft moan torn from her.

“L-Lance?”

And like the alien there was something else to her inquiry beyond the confusion.

Fear.

He responded by cupping his hand more around her head, pressing gloved fingers into her hair.

He would protect her.

No matter what.

“It’s… it’s gonna be okay,” he managed, not sure if he was trying to comfort Pidge, himself or if it was a plea to the alien.

Maybe it was all of it.

“No,” the alien disagreed. “It won’t.”

And he fired.

It came as though in slow motion. 

The light was green, same as the cannon missiles, and not a laser but a streaming bullet. It wasn’t large, no more than an inch across, but that did not make it any less deadly.

And when it struck… Lance didn’t know what would happen.

Would he live?

Die?

But he couldn’t run because he would never leave Pidge. Pidge, who was already hurt and defenseless and missing her helmet.

He had a chance to survive.

As she was now she had none without him.

And Lance may not be a genius but even he could figure out those numbers. And there was only one choice to take.

The world narrowed.

Just the bullet.

His heartbeat.

Pidge’s sharp, rapid breaths.

Lance looked away from the bullet, looked down.

He tried to muster up a smile as horrified honey eyes stared up at him, his name silent on her lips, as even in pain and confused she realized what was happening, what he was doing.

He tightened his grip, ducked his head, nose pressed into Pidge’s hair that even now smelled of mango, and made sure her own was fully covered, was protected as best he could by his helmet and shield.

He didn’t — couldn’t — watch anymore.

He still heard Hunk’s shout, both directly in his ear and roaring a few feet away.

And even with his eyes scrunched closed and turned away Lance could still see the searing yellow light of Hunk’s bayard, feel the heat as it passed not even inches from them.

The bullet never struck.

Hunk had incinerated it.

There was another, higher shout and a _thunk_ and Lance lifted his head to see that Hunk had just knocked the alien out with his cannon.

Lance uncurled from around Pidge, the immediate danger over.

Hot brown eyes glared holes into him as he pulled back and Lance felt a shiver go down his spine at the rage in that gaze but he welcomed it to the confusion and fear of before.

He never wanted to see Pidge look like that again.

“What,” Pidge sputtered, nearly vibrating, “were you _thinking?”_

“I ran the numbers,” Lance said simply as Hunk hurried to them, his steps shaking the still quaking ground. “And that was the only outcome I liked.”

And while the fire didn’t go out it softened and Pidge let out a soft, shuddering breath. “You idiot,” she told him, although it sounded fond. She winced a second later though as she turned her head and that turned into a moan as she tried to move, most of her body still pinned down by Lance. 

“You’re hurt,” Lance told her unnecessarily, but apparently it was as she tried to turn her ahead again on the ground with another wince. “Don’t move.” Lance looked up to Hunk as his best friend’s worried eyes met his through a dirt-streaked visor. “She’s hurt.”

“I’m not—” Pidge broke off with a sharp inhale and a whimper.

“Pidge, your leg!” Hunk gasped. “Oh, cheeseballs, that’s…”

He turned away and the sound of vomiting filled the air.

Lance sat up and rolled to the side so he was no longer atop Pidge and looked over his shoulder.

Pidge’s right leg was twisted below the knee, her toes pointing nearly inward.

He felt his own stomach lurch at the sight but swallowed back the acid taste of bile.

He ran eyes up the rest of Pidge, remembering how he had seen her splayed limbs earlier but had clearly missed that injury. Fortunately, other than the blood decorating her face — and traced to a cut just above her left eye that looked worse than it likely was — the rest of her seemed to be in the correct alignment.

He still remembered how she’d bounced and how moving her head seemed to be hurting her.

Concussion?

Likely.

Spine injury?

Possible.

They didn’t have time though to find out, emphasized as another streaking missile went by, about a fifty yards out, but still far too close and the unconscious alien Hunk had dispatched a stark reminder.

But still...

“Pidge, can, can you move your fingers? Your toes? Other foot,” Lance clarified quickly before she tried to do so on her mangled leg. 

“I…” Her face scrunched up as though she had to think about it but a moment later both of her hands were twitching on the ground and her left foot was flexing back and forth.

_Gracias a Dios._

It wasn’t a perfect diagnosis by any means but it was better than nothing and the fact she could do so lifted the worst of the sudden weight off his shoulders.

“She got caught up in a blast,” he explained to Hunk, who came over with a murmured apology that Lance responded with a gentle squeeze to his upper arm. “Hunk, can you carry her? We, we need to get out of here.”

It spoke volumes to how bad she felt that Pidge didn’t even give token protest as Hunk lifted her into his arms except a whimper as her leg was jostled and Hunk let out another soft apology.

She looked so _small_ against Hunk’s broad chest.

Lance looked away from the image.

Not now.

Pidge was alive.

She was going to be fine.

He needed to focus on getting them safely out of there.

Now where did they go?

“We need to get to the forest,” Lance decided, recalling the tall purple and blue trees that bordered the estate. They could hide there, plenty of places to do so in a forest, and if they were lucky some sort of water source, and wait out till tomorrow morning when the castle would be in distance and they could reach the others on the comms. 

Assuming they made it till morning.

Lance chased that thought away too.

“The best route is back across the dais,” Lance said.

It had the benefit of being away from the main fighting, as while it had started there it had spread to encompass all of the grounds and the open patio hadn’t exactly been rife with either cover or weapons.

Lance still wasn’t sure where the aliens had pulled out so many from but it wasn’t worth thinking over. This alliance was over and as much as it pained him to see others being hurt and, and _killed,_ his priority was his team.

His friends.

His _family._

But the dais had the giant glaring negative of the aforementioned no cover and the fact that it was raised.

They would be as visible as one could be in the battlefield and their white armor, bright compared to the browns and grays of the aliens’ wardrobes, shone like a beacon.

But if they didn’t go that way they would become involved in the fighting and that wasn’t good either.

The ground shook and gunfire peppered the air, followed by screams.

They were close.

They had to go.

_Now._

“Go,” Lance summoned his shield in his right and his bayard in his left. “I’ll cover.”

Hunk looked a second away from protesting but another blast impacted nearby and after ducking his head down at the resulting cloud of stones and hot rush of air he nodded instead and turned in that direction.

Lance flanked him and Pidge, shield raised to cover primarily Hunk’s chest where Pidge was. It left his own side exposed, bayard his only protection and unlike Hunk he didn’t tend to use his as a battering ram or deflector, but it could do in a pinch.

Pidge had fallen silent, unusual for her even in this sort of circumstance, and Lance’s heart leapt into his throat as he realized she was not just quiet but no longer awake.

Weren’t people with head wounds not supposed to sleep? 

What if she…?

What if she never woke up?

But as Lance pivoted to block an incoming attack — and at least all of the aliens’ projectiles emitted colored streams or they would be _toast_ — he couldn’t worry about that right now.

He added it to the growing “worry about later” folder that was becoming much too big. 

They made it with surprisingly little resistance across the dais.

But that didn’t make the horror of what they saw now from this higher vantage point any better.

There were bodies… everywhere. Craters and blood and fire and just so much violence and death that Lance felt his head growing light.

What…

What was the point?

_Why?_

“Lance!” Hunk’s voice crackled through the fog. 

Lance turned his back on the scene and resumed his quick but steady pace to match Hunk.

They were in the treeline a minute later.

There was no pause though, the firefight still much too close. Lance took the rear now, allowing Hunk to lead them deeper and deeper in while he strained his ears for any sign of footsteps, for an incoming attack.

Ten minutes later there was nothing except the crunch of their footsteps on dead leaves and pine-like needles and the faintest sound of birdcall. 

Lance called out a quiet halt and Hunk stopped, turning to face him.

Even with the grimy visor Lance could make out the tremble to Hunk’s lip and the bright shine to his eyes.

“We’re gonna be okay, _hermano,”_ he said softly. 

“Pidge…” Hunk trailed off, looking down at the small form cradled in his arms. “She…”

Lance tamped down his own growing fears.

“Let’s… let’s take a look, okay? She’s gonna be fine, Hunk. And she’d, she’d hit you for worrying about her.”

Hunk let out a watery laugh that bordered on the edge of hysterical but he gave a nod and gently lowered Pidge to the ground in a patch of sunlight filtering in through the treetops. 

“Are you hurt?” Lance asked, raking his eyes over Hunk — soot-stained and dirty — for any sign of injury and breathed a sigh of relief as Hunk shook his head.

“Just a little sore, probably some bruises. You?”

“I think I’m okay.”

Lance tended to downplay actually serious injuries and Hunk knew it, but while sore too and no doubt also going to be sporting some bruises in addition to the bloodied cut on his cheek he really didn’t feel all that bad and Hunk’s own observations must have led him to the same belief as he nodded and didn’t argue, only removing his helmet and setting it aside and Lance did the same; the comms not working to the castle right now and the added vision more helpful than the protection outside now of the battle.

“She hit her head,” Lance said as he began to carefully unclasp Pidge’s armor on her right leg, trying hard not to look at how _wrong_ it looked but this needed done or it would swell inside the armor and only get worse. “In an explosion. She, she wasn’t wearing her helmet, Hunk.”

Hunk was gently prodding at Pidge’s head, his tongue sticking out as he did when he was concentrating deeply, shifting to her neck. Pidge stirred ever so as Hunk lifted up her eyelids one by one, his helmet back in hand and the headlight feature activated, a little whimper passing from her lips, before she stilled once more as he shut off the light.

“She’s definitely got a bump,” Hunk said, lighting touching the back of his own head to indicate. “And another one here,” he lifted his fingers to above his right eye. “Both pupils are a tiny bit dilated but nothing too bad.” 

“Shouldn’t we wake her?” 

Hunk shook his head. “Sleep and rest are actually best for head injuries. She was talking to you earlier, right?”

Lance nodded. 

If scolding meant talking, yes.

“Concussions are cognitive injuries,” Hunk said. “If she was talking and responsive earlier, which she was, that’s a good sign. The pupil dilation isn’t so great,” he frowned at that, “but it’s not bad and both are dilated equally so…”

“So?” Lance prompted.

“So she’s going to be fine,” Hunk said quickly. 

Lance didn’t push. If Hunk said that, and he wouldn’t gamble with Pidge’s health just to assuage their own fears, then it would be. Lance didn’t need to know the other outcome, of which of course Hunk knew as he was nearly a walking medical dictionary. 

“So we let her sleep?” Lance frowned then. 

“Yeah. She needs the rest; it’ll help with the concussion. And she’s probably in a lot of pain and we… we don’t have…”

They didn’t have anything.

Ocean met honey as that fact sank in.

They had no supplies.

No medicine. No food. No water. 

Nothing.

And still in hostile territory, no matter how safe it looked now. 

“Her leg?” Lance changed direction.

He’d removed the armor now from both legs and the difference between the two hurt to look at and that was with the underarmor suit still pulled down to Pidge’s ankle. He heard Hunk take in a noisy inhale.

“It’s… it’s not good,” Hunk finally said. “But there’s there’s no blood, right?”

Lance shook his head to confirm. No blood; just a badly broken leg.

“Okay, okay, so that’s good.” Hunk was looking back to Pidge’s face. “She’s not gonna bleed out. No open wounds for infection. Let’s just… just leave it as is. If we can get some ice or cold water, maybe help with the swelling and the pain, but…”

“Water would be a good idea,” Lance licked his lips, not dry yet but he could feel the tickle in the back of his throat and it would only be a matter of time. This planet wasn’t hot, pleasant, really, but they still had at least fifteen hours until rescue and while dehydration wouldn’t kill them in that timeframe it would be uncomfortable and Pidge was in enough pain already.

“There’s gotta be something in here,” Hunk made a vague gesture at the trees around them. “These aren’t just pine specimens; there’s plenty of deciduous-type leaves and those need water. A running source would be best; less chance of contaminants although we don’t have any test strips to test the levels and those could contain something lethal to humans so then drinking it would be really bad and more dangerous than being dehydrated and Pidge is already so small that if we introduced a bacteria to her when she’s hurt and with her body mass the odds of her—”

“Hunk, _hermano, breathe,”_ Lance cut in as Hunk was growing paler with each utterance as he panicked himself with the possibilities and Lance could not let them both fall into that spiral. 

“Come on, deep breath in,” Lance coached, taking an exaggerated inhale as he used to do when Hunk fell into panic attacks. It… it had been a long time since that. Hunk took a noisy one and Lance held up three fingers, folding each one down as the second passed before they both exhaled in tandem.

Two more cycles later and color had returned to Hunk’s cheeks and the trembling that had begun to shake him had stopped. 

“Better?” Lance asked and got a shaky nod. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m—”

Pidge’s soft groan had both of their heads jerking in her direction as she stirred once more, face screwed up in pain. 

“Pidge?” Lance asked, crouching next to her. “Are, are you…?”

Hazy honey eyes slowly opened, blinking up at him.

“Lance? Whas goin’…?” she slurred out the words, pausing in the middle as though unsure of where she was going with her sentence. 

“Pidge, Pidgeon, hey,” Lance murmured, giving her left hand lying limp at her side a small squeeze. “Don’t move, okay? You’re hurt.”

She frowned then. “‘m not…” She shifted and it drew a low moan and she closed her eyes. “Head hurts,” she grunted. Even with her eyes squeezed closed a tear still made its way out. “Hurts.”

Lance tore his eyes from her to Hunk, something rolling in his gut.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded, fear making him sharp.“She, she wasn’t like this earlier. She was talking and, and aware and—”

“Delayed symptoms, not uncommon,” Hunk interrupted. “She’s… this is… this is normal. I, I think. Slurred speech and confusion. She might also be…”

Pidge’s face screwed up in that moment and Hunk had her hauled to sitting and over one of his arms within the second. He was just in time as the sound of retching filled the air followed by the stench of vomit.

“Concussion, definitely,” Hunk murmured, rubbing Pidge’s back as she heaved again with a groan. 

“What do we do?” Lance asked, tentatively resting one of his hands along Pidge’s back, wishing he’d removed the armor earlier as the touch was probably barely felt or comforting with it in the way. 

“Water will help; keep her hydrated and help with some of the headache symptoms and the dizziness. She needs rest too; lots of it.”

“‘m right here,” Pidge mumbled. “‘can hear you. And, ‘m fine.”

“We have very different definitions of that word,” Lance told her, keeping his tone as lightly teasing as he could. 

“Mine’s right.”

“Not in this case, Pidgeon.”

She gave him a pitiful glare, a far cry from the normal fiery ones that made Lance grin more than they scared him, but he still took it. 

Anything that resembled the Pidge he knew and not the small, confused and broken version she was flitting between. 

“We should get going,” Hunk said. “This planet only has daylight for about another four hours and it’s going to get worse earlier since we’re in the forest. Lance, I’ll carry Pidge and—”

“I can walk.”

And Pidge, apparently having forgotten the state of her right leg (although did she even know how bad it was, truly?) attempted to move them from where they were lying sprawled to the side.

She uttered a soft scream a second later, curling around Hunk’s arm with a shudder as though that might relieve the pain. 

“F-fuck,” she whimpered. 

“Yeah,” Lance agreed.

That summed this situation up pretty well.

“Hunk is going to carry you, okay, Pidgeon?” Lance phrased the question to her then and was rewarded with a tiny “kay,” in answer.

Pidge was independent, fiercely so. Even when the easier solution would be to ask for assistance she would do it on her own.

And this?

This was a worst case scenario for her. Injured to the point she couldn’t walk on her own, dealing with the confusion and dizziness and pain of the head injury, and cut off from any technology outlets that could assist them as they were in the middle of a forest. And making decisions for her when she was awake to hear them was only making it worse. Pidge couldn’t really refuse but at least they could make sure not to inadvertently treat her like a child.

“Do you want to remove the rest of your armor?” Lance asked gently. “Might make you a little more comfortable.”

He got another nod.

“Can I help?”

Another nod.

Pidge assisted, sort of, by lifting her arms in Lance’s direction as Hunk continued to hold her up, she slumping more and more into his arms with every passing second. A quick few minutes later Lance had a pile of armor of her arm braces and her front and back plates gathered by the leg and foot braces along with her belt. She stiffened a number of times as he undid latches and pulled pieces away and he murmured soft apologies and little soothing noises.

He couldn’t imagine how bruised she probably was, even with the armor.

His own body was starting to ache now too but it was as he’d told Hunk earlier and he could deal with some bumps and bruises. He’d be fine and tough it out and then still do it as he absolutely did not need a cryo-pod.

Pidge did though.

Badly.

Her leg…

Lance was still trying not to look at it and he’d asked Hunk if they should splint it, to which Hunk had said no; Pidge wouldn’t be walking on it and confining it would only make it worse. 

Hunk had though bundled all of Pidge’s armor in a way Lance still couldn’t follow and wrapped it all with her utility belt and it was slung over Lance’s back now and his bayard and shield once more in his hands. Pidge had been scooped back into Hunk’s arms, her head resting against a series of leaves Hunk had bundled together so it wasn’t clunking on his armor, and her broken leg held as securely as possible along Hunk’s chest.

Lance took the lead that time, sharp eyes looking for anything that would be both adequate shelter for the night as well as the needed river or stream. And honestly, the more distance they could put between themselves and the aliens the better. He didn't know how many would try and point the finger at Voltron and try to go after them. 

They walked.

And walked.

And walked more.

Pidge fell asleep about an hour in and Lance hated how even then she would let out little whimpers and cries at the jostling, minimal as it was. 

He hated that she was in pain.

He hated more he couldn’t do anything about it.

Their steps became heavier, slower. Lance could feel exhaustion beginning to press in on him, the small aches he’d ignored earlier reminding him with every footfall that he’d been caught up in a firefight just a few hours ago. His shoulder ached from the combined weight of Pidge’s armor and his and Hunk’s helmets too and his shield, which he refused to de-pixelate and his bayard was in its standard form and clunking against his thigh. His throat had moved past dry and was gummy now and an ache was was beginning to build behind his eyes from peering into the dense foliage.

They didn’t dare pause though as if they did Lance wasn’t sure they would get back up.

Light was just beginning to become an issue when Lance finally heard it. 

Water.

Hunk had heard it too, breathing out the word.

They took off with renewed energy.

Not even a minute later they were rewarded with the sight of a small stream curving around a bend.

Hunk didn’t even wait for the okay to make camp, he merely sank down to his knees and carefully laid Pidge down before he collapsed with a thump and a groan next to her, arms limp at his sides. Lance winced in sympathy as while Pidge was small holding her as Hunk had for hours while walking and sore himself would have been a lot to ask of anyone and Hunk hadn’t complained once.

“Rest, _hermano,”_ Lance said, sliding the armor pack to the ground. “I’ll… I’ll set up camp.”

Not that they had much to do. But Lance still did what he could, using Hunk’s helmet (cleaner and no blood inside the glass) to gather water and saving his in case the water shorted out the comms so they could contact the castle tomorrow, gathering up dry sticks and sprinkling them on the boundary of their area into the woods that should make an extra crunch should anyone try and sneak up on them and give them a little warning, and shrugging out of his own upper pieces of armor with a relieved little sigh.

He let Hunk sniff the water first, his nose sensitive to spices and their best guess for the contents of the water, although Lance had high hopes for it as he’d already used some to wash the cut on his cheek and had a leaf plastered on it now and so far there was no indicating his face was melting off from acid or something.

“It looks okay,” Hunk gave it his tired verdict, swirling it in the dying sunlight, a bit brighter at least now as the tree canopy had opened up some along the river bank. 

“Good enough for me,” Lance mustered up a tired grin.”You drink first though, _hermano._ You need it.”

“Because you know I have the stronger stomach,” Hunk teased and Lance felt his smile become more natural. Still, he took a generous sip and let out a content noise. “That hits the spot.”

Lance found himself agreeing a moment later, the water not quite cool but cool enough on his dry throat. He and Hunk drained the helmet and Lance turned his gaze then to Pidge, still where Hunk had placed her.

“Let her sleep,” Hunk said softly. “When she wakes up we’ll make sure she drinks plenty.”

Lance nodded.

He lowered himself to sit next to Pidge and after a second of hesitation slid his arms beneath her back and carefully raised her up, shifting her to sitting and then tipping her so her cheek was pressed against his chest and her bump had no pressure on it and she wasn’t lying on the hard ground anymore. Pidge let out a soft noise but didn’t wake and Lance slipped an arm around the small shoulders and pulled her snug against his side.

“Here,” Hunk crawled over, pushing a refilled helmet in front of him and the bundle of armor. He carefully propped her injured leg up on the bundle of armor in front of her and carefully put the helmet of water next to it.

“Not really an ice pack but it’s a little cooler,” Hunk said. “And probably won’t do much but we can try to keep it elevated. You good?”

“Yeah,” Lance looked down at the auburn head. “I’m good.”

They set up a watch schedule; approximately four hours each once the sun officially went down to cover the overnight.

Lance took first shift, tired eyes drifting between the forest and down to Pidge, who had yet still to awaken, and then to Hunk curled up next to them, whose stomach was giving mournful gurgles every few minutes despite Hunk trying to shush it. It had made Lance crack a small smile.

Normally he and Hunk never ran out of things to talk about and Lance could use the distraction, but there was something about the situation, about the forest, that kept them quiet. It was for the better; he could hear if anything was coming.

It was also what alerted him to the fact about an hour later Pidge was waking up. She was twitching, breath picking up in tempo and as the seconds ticked by was punctuated with sharp gasps and little flails, her propped leg thunking off the pile and she let out a small cry. 

She was going to hurt herself.

“Pidge, Pidge, hey,” Lance pitched his voice low, trying not to wake Hunk who had finally dozed off a bit ago. “Pidgeon, wake up.”

She didn’t.

She did continue to suck in harsh breaths and Lance tipped her backwards, the moonlight from above casting onto her face and revealing not just a face bunched with pain but with…

With fear.

She was having a nightmare.

“Pidge,” Lance brought his free hand up and gave her shoulder a tiny shake. “Pidge, wake up.”

She let out a low moan, eyes racing beneath closed lids.

What was she seeing?

“Pidge, wake up,” Lance’s voice was sharper then as she let out another breathless moan. “Pidge, it’s okay. You’re okay. Okay, not okay okay but,” Lance shook his head at himself. Not helping. “Pidge, c’mon, it’s, it’s not real. Wake up.”

Pidge’s eyes flew open.

But they were not the bright, mischievous, always inquisitive eyes he knew.

They were hazy, unseeing.

And they were terrified.

“Pidge, you’re okay, you’re safe,” Lance babbled. “I’m right here. You’re here. It’s okay.”

She stared up at him with unfocused eyes, breath hot on his neck and trembling and whimpering.

“Pidge, shh, it’s okay,” Lance murmured, carefully bringing his hand up to brush the side of her face. “You’re okay. It’s okay.”

“M-Matt,” she choked out.

“Matt’s safe, he’s safe, I promise,” Lance said. He’d just checked in with the castle two days ago after all. “He’s safe, Pidgeon.”

“M-Matt.”

“He’s not here,” Lance stroked her cheek again. “But, but I’m here. Lance. And…”

“And I’m here too,” came Hunk’s voice from behind and a moment later Lance felt Hunk settle next to him, no doubt awoken by them. “Hunk. I’m here, Pidge.”

“Matt,” she cried again, squeezing her eyes shut. 

“The concussion is confusing her,” Hunk said quietly as Lance made another soothing noise for all the good it was doing. “And she’s in a lot of pain. I’m, I’m gonna get her some water.”

Hunk collected the tipped over and now empty helmet and retreated to the stream.

Pidge continued to whisper her brother’s name. 

“ _Lo siento,_ Pidge. He’s… he’s not here. I’m sorry. But he’s safe, okay? He’s safe. And, and you are too. You’re hurt but you’re gonna be okay.”

“Here,” Hunk was back, water sloshing inside the helmet. “Pidge,” he called her name to no reaction. 

She could hear them but they were just another part of the nightmare to her. How… how did they get through?

“Katie,” Lance said on a whim.

Pidge froze.

He’d never called her that before but he’d heard Matt use it.

“Katie,” he said it again. “You’re safe. You’re okay. It’s, it’s just a dream. A nightmare.”

She turned her head ever so from where she’d pressed it against Lance’s chest.

There was a glimmer of recognition in those honey orbs.

“L-Lance?” she choked out. Her gaze drifted to the side. “Hunk?”

“Right here,” Hunk said gently. “You with us?”

“What…?” she craned her neck around. “What… I thought… there was…?”

“You were having a nightmare,” Lance told her, stroking her cheek again. “And you’ve got a concussion from… from earlier. It’s probably making things a little confusing.”

She gave a tiny nod, wincing.

“My, my head…”

“Hurts, a lot, huh?” Hunk said sympathetically. “I’ve got some water if you want a drink. It might help a little bit. Want to try?”

Pidge licked her lips and gave a tiny nod.

Lance shifted his arm to prop her up a little better and Hunk guided the helmet to her, tipping it and letting Pidge take a small sip, swallow, and then another and another.

“You up for trying to sleep some more?” Hunk asked, putting the helmet aside. 

Pidge’s hand tightened where it had latched onto Lance’s arm and while she said nothing there was no missing the flash of fear, the way her breath hitched.

“We’ll be right here,” Lance promised quietly. “No nightmares are gonna get you while we’re on watch, Pidgeon. Not again.”

“‘Kay,” she breathed out. “But…”

Both boys met each other’s eyes as Pidge’s closed.

“But?” Lance prompted. 

“Hunk’s… sof… softer.”

There was a beat of silence and then Hunk let out a full bellied laugh and Lance felt his own lips upturning. 

“Yeah, he is,” Lance agreed. “You want him for your pillow?”

“Mhm.”

“I can’t even be offended,” Lance said, shaking his head.

“You?” Hunk teased. “I’m the one being called soft.”

“Well, you are,” Lance pointed out.

“I am indeed,” Hunk smiled. “C’mon, Pidge, let’s get you comfy.”

Pidge went willingly where Lance shifted her, her head pillowed on Hunk’s chest now and his large arms wrapped about her. And while her face wasn’t peaceful it wasn’t as pained as before.

Not as scared.

“Lance?” she murmured.

“Yeah, Pidgeon?” he leaned over and was surprised when she thrust a hand out, latching onto his forearm. 

“Stay?”

“Wouldn’t dream of anything else,” he said softly. “Get some sleep, Pidgeon.” He met Hunk’s eyes, mirroring the same, soft look in the evening light. “We’ll chase away the nightmares.”

And they did.

They both stayed on watch for nightmares, for aliens, for anything that posed any threat to Pidge. The nightmares continued to be their only enemy in the otherwise quiet forest.

Pidge would twitch, whimper, and they would wake her each time, soft voices and gentle touches and talk to her as she woke up, confused and scared.

They seemed to vary; Matt cropping up often but occasionally she’d call out for her parents, and even a few times their own names. She didn’t seem to remember them, only the feelings left behind, and Hunk and Lance did their best to soothe those away, to chase the remnants of the dark, fearsome thoughts and replace them with smiles and light laughs and hugs and hand squeezes.

And each time Pidge would drift off, comforted by their words and presences until the next set cropped up. But they never let her get as scared as she had been that first time, as scared as Lance had seen her on the battlefield.

And since they were both staying awake they both heard when Lance’s helmet crackled with Coran’s voice just as sunlight began to stream through the trees, indicating their team had finished up their alliance meeting early and how were the conditions on their planet as Coran was feeling rather partial to that human concept of a picnic and—

“Coran!” Lance had jammed his helmet on so fast it clipped his ears. “We need an extraction!”

Not even ten dobashes later Allura was swooping down in the Blue Lion and they were boarding, Pidge cradled once more in Hunk’s arms, while Shiro and Black guarded them from above. Pidge was plucked from Hunk by Allura once they landed and she and Coran hurried away to prep her for a pod while Shiro oversaw that they both ate and then took showers followed by icepacks and pain relievers and a real bandage instead of the leaf for Lance’s cheek.

Then they waited for Pidge.

It wouldn’t be long, Coran assured, about six varga, as while the leg looked bad it had been a clean one and he’d already realigned the worst of it — Number Five had been sedated, he assured them at Hunk’s green-tinged face and Lance knew his own look of horror — before going in and the bump to her head, while significant, was not serious.

He also confirmed there was no spine damage. Lance wasn’t sure he’d ever felt so relieved at hearing it confirmed.

He and Hunk spent the time baking peanut butter cookies and then sitting outside Pidge’s pod, Hunk stress-eating nearly all of them, and quietly talking over whatever non-serious topic came to mind.

Hearing the beep of the pod as it announced it was finished healing its occupant had them both leaping to their feet, scattering cookie crumbs and blankets and pillows, and then Hunk was catching Pidge as she tumbled out of the pod and Lance was there with a blanket, draping it over the white cryo-suit of the small form and ensconcing Pidge between them both.

“Pidgeon?” he asked softly, rubbing a hand on her back. “You… you with us?”

And the gaze that met his as she looked up set everything right again.

There she was.

Pidge smiled softly, far softer than he was used to seeing on her, and cast the same one to Hunk. 

“I… I don’t remember all of it, but…” she reached her hands out, wrapping one around Lance’s back and the other about Hunk. Lance returned the hug and wheezed slightly as Hunk did the same, squishing all of them together.

“You protected me,” she said softly. And…” Her hold tightened. “You chased away my nightmares.”

“We always will,” Lance said softly.

“Always,” Hunk echoed, voice sounding thick. 

Because they would always be there for each other. 

And with that kind of friendship and love shining bright the nightmares didn’t stand a chance.

**Author's Note:**

> The world can always use more Garrison Trio :) (edit: or apparently not. Ouch :( ) Enjoy the fic? **Please leave a comment** (not just a kudo or a page click >>), I really appreciate it :) Thank you so much to those who take the time to do so ❤️


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